


Letters from War

by Slutty_Merlin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, WWII AU, song!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 04:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18308366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slutty_Merlin/pseuds/Slutty_Merlin
Summary: Based on Mark Schultz' "Letters from War"





	Letters from War

**Author's Note:**

> I recently found this song again, and then the muse took me by the hand and wouldn't let go, so, enjoy this drabble :)

July 3rd, 1941

 

Hunith can barely keep her hands from shaking as she opens the mailbox. It’s been quite a while since her son was called to war, but still practically vibrates when she checks the mail, hoping to God that she’ll find a letter from him. Seeing the familiar handwriting, her name and address in neat, scrawling penmanship, quells the anxiety in her gut.

Her boy is safe for now.

She smiles as she reads the words on the paper, her darling boy’s personality blooming out of every syllable.

 

_Dear Mum,_

_Hi, I miss you. Though it’s not all bad here, I guess. The weather is bloody awful, so naturally, it reminds me of home. Will and I are in the same troop, if you can believe that. He makes the dull days brighter. We talk about our childhood and ignore the gunfire if we can. It works for us._

_I’ve made several friends, actually. I think you’d like them. Gwaine is a bit odd, but he’s nice, and never fails to lighten the mood with his antics. I fear he talks more than I do, which is saying quite a lot. Then there’s Percival, the gentle giant. I think Lance is the bravest one out of all of us, if I’m being completely honest. Leon and Elyan just feed off each other, which I find endlessly amusing. They all do, really. Especially when it comes to teasing young Mordred._

_He’s the youngest of us, only nineteen. He’s got a sweetheart, Kara, that he writes to as often as he can. I hope this will be over soon, and they can be reunited._

_Well, and then there’s Arthur. I think you’d like him most of all. He’s can act like a gigantic prat most of the time, but all in all he’s a pretty decent guy._

_I’ll be honest, I’ve…been thinking about Dad, a lot, about the life he had. I have him to thank, honestly, to be where I am. Not at war, obviously, but, for the man I’ve become, y’know? I miss him, every day, and I know you do too._

_You are what I’m fighting for._

 

_Your son,_

_-Merlin xxx_

  


***

 

June 7th, 1941

 

Merlin’s letters from his mum are something he looks forward to, something that keeps him going, even as battles rage on and people continue to die.

Gwaine teases him endlessly, as do the rest of his friends. The only ones that leave him alone are Arthur, who writes to his sister every day, and Mordred, who never fails to write to his Sweetheart. The others don’t mean anything by it, he knows. Especially Elyan, who has his own sister to write to.

Despite everyone taking the piss out of each other, they keep each others’ spirits up. A very important thing to do when surrounded by bombs and gunfire.

Between Merlin’s friends and the letters from his mother, he has hope.

 

_Dearest Merlin_

_Your letters ease my mind, Merlin. I hope you’re doing well, and keeping safe. I’m glad you’ve found friends._

_Your father would be so proud of you. You’re a good man Merlin, and you’re so very brave. You’re just like him, the older you get, you know. What a father you, my dear, will make some day._

_Gaius says hello. He can’t exactly stay in London at his age, what with the state it’s in, so he’s come to stay with me for a time. He wishes you well, and also hopes you remain safe._

_The weather here is also dreadful, so you’re not alone. I’m not sure when it’ll stop raining. It’s good for the garden, at least, though Gaius complains that it makes his knees ache._

_My regards to young Mordred. Give him some hugs for me, yeah?_

_You’re right. This Arthur does sound lovely, if a little irritating. As do the rest. I’m glad they can keep your spirits up, and you them._

_I miss you terribly, my dear._

_Make it home for me, okay?_

_Stay safe,_

_-Mum xxx_

 

* * *

 

January 12th, 1942

The ink is smudged, Hunith notes. Merlin must’ve been crying as he wrote. She knows why. Will’s mother had a visit, not too long ago. A black car pulled into the driveway, and a man emerged only to tell her that her boy had died.

They heard her anguished cries across the village. Hunith cannot begin to imagine how he feels.

 

_Dear Mum,_

 

_We’ve lost Will. I’m sure by now you’ve heard, but…I wanted to tell you. He was a good friend. One of my best mates. I can’t imagine how his mother must feel. Tell her…tell her I’m sorry, would you?_

_I wish I could bring you good news. I won’t lie to you, Mum, it’s…it’s looking bleak._

_Tell me about Ealdor. How’s Uncle Gaius? The garden?_

_I miss you so much. I hope you’re in good health, Mum. I love you._

_Your son,_

_-Merlin xxx_

 

***

 

April 15th, 1942

 

His letters grow shorter and shorter. Less time to talk, it seems.

Still, his mother writes to him. Still, her letters make him smile.

  


_Dearest Merlin,_

 

_Gaius is well. He still complains about his knees, but he’s well. He also looks forward to your letters. He says they’re good for morale in these dark times._

_Will’s mum is doing better. Not…good, but better. It can’t have been easy, losing both her husband and her son. Don’t make me do the same, hey? Or I’ll bring you back to life and kill you myself._

_I hope I make you smile with my writings, just as you make me smile with yours. Things will start looking up soon, my boy, I know it. Chin up, yeah? How are the rest of the boys? You told me Mordred plans to propose to Kara when he gets home, right? And that he plans to invite every single one of you to the wedding? That’s very sweet of him._

_I wish Arthur and Elyan’s sisters well. They’ve joined the war effort, right? Brave girls. I wish I had their courage._

_I’ve said it before, but I feel like I need to tell you again; you’re a good, and brave, man. I love you so much, Merlin._

_Stay safe._

_-Mum xxx_

 

* * *

 

“I’m not leaving you here!”

“ _Mer_ lin, you need to get out of here!”

“No!”

He’ll hear no more arguments. He hoists his fallen comrade up, pulls his arm over his shoulder. The shots are ringing out, the bombs explode around them. And all Merlin knows is that he has to get his friend to safety. He won’t leave a man behind, never.

He deposits Arthur to safety. Surely they’ll both be found if they don’t move. So Merlin gets what’s probably a terrible idea.

“Arthur.”

“Yeah?”

“Write to my mum for me, will you?”

“Merlin, what-?”

Before Arthur can protest, Merlin takes off, desperately trying to draw away the gunfire.

Arthur doesn’t see him after that.

 

***

 

December 22nd, 1943

 

Hunith doesn’t hear from Merlin for a while. Every day she races to the mailbox, only to come back empty handed. She fears that she’ll see that black car pull in the driveway, like it did when Will was killed in battle. Every day, she stares out the window, dreading the day it comes. Every night she sleeps restlessly, fearing that a commanding officer will knock on her door and deliver the crushing news.

It never happens.

Her heart fills when she sees the letter in the mailbox, on that dreary and cold December afternoon.

But her relief is short lived.

 

_Dear Hunith._

 

_Merlin asked me to write to you. He’s a very brave man, your son. I…was up on a hill, all alone, and surrounded by gunfire, and the bombs were exploding everywhere. I thought I was surely done for. But…then I saw him. He came back for me, ma’am. He refused to leave me behind. He paid for my freedom with his capture._

_He asked me to write to you, for him, and I swore._

_I have hope that he’s still alive. We all do. He’s strong, and good, and if any of us deserve to go home, it’s him._

_With regards,_

_-Arthur_

 

***

 

She refuses to give up hope. Still, she has yet to see the car pull into her driveway. She has yet to receive word that he’s died. She still writes to him, every day. Some of the other boys write back, but even those eventually stop.

She has to believe he’s okay. Her son. Her brave, kind, altogether _good_ boy. He’ll come home safe, she insists, he’ll get married, have children, live a long and full life.

If she doesn’t hold steadfast to that belief, she doesn’t have anything.

 

* * *

 

September 17th, 1945

 

She’s hanging the laundry outside when it happens. It’s not the first thing she sees, however. No, the first thing she sees is Gaius, in the window. He nearly drops his pipe, his face drawn in a mixture of shock, disbelief, and sorrow. When she follows his line of sight, her legs give out underneath her. The basket of laundry drops to the ground beside her, its contents spilling out onto the autumn leaves covering the grass.

But then, from the car, emerges a man where there was once a boy. The bright blue eyes, the large ears, would be a dead give away to anyone. But to Hunith, she doesn’t need that all that. The moment she lays eyes on him, she knows.

Her son has returned home to her.

He smiles blindingly, runs to her as he drops his trunk on the ground.

She weeps as she holds him. And even as he trembles in her arms, even as he cries as well, she can hear the smile in his voice.

“I’ve missed you so much.” he whispers. “I’m home.”

 

He’s home.

He’s safe.

That’s all Hunith ever wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> I greatly appreciate comments and kudos :*


End file.
